


naturally

by peggycarterisacat



Series: Rarepairs Week 2018 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dogs, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Very Brief Violence, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggycarterisacat/pseuds/peggycarterisacat
Summary: “Would it be super rude to ask another favor while I’m at it?” Margaery asked.“Smooth– Is this why you actually called?”“Yes,” she admitted in a huff. “My friend needs a date.”“No,” he said firmly.





	naturally

**Author's Note:**

> For rarepairs week on tumblr - day 1 prompt: fake dating

Margaery never bothered with saying hello when she called — not with family, anyway. "If I put you and Oberyn at the same table, will that rein him in or make it worse?" she asked as soon as Willas picked up the phone.

"If you're putting me on Oberyn duty, that's your wedding gift," Willas said. He was only sort of joking.

"Ha ha," she said. "Seriously, is my wedding going to end up on a tabloid in a good way, or a bad way?"

"I'll ask him nicely," Willas said. "But praying to the Old Gods might be just as effective."

She groaned. "Well, as Grandmother says,  _ there's no such thing as bad publicity." _

Willas always thought Grandmother was being terribly unimaginative whenever she said that, but he never voiced it. That was probably why he was still the favorite grandson.

"Would it be super rude to ask another favor while I'm at it?" she asked.

"Smooth— Is this why you actually called?"

_ "Yes,"  _ she admitted in a huff. "My friend needs a date."

"No," he said firmly. "Don't try to set me up with your friends—"

"When did I say this was a set up?" she protested. "She's way too disillusioned to date right now anyway."

"If it's not, then why? It's not  _ that _ bad to go to a wedding single."

Willas didn't see the point— there was no reason to hide it. Five years ago, he might have been embarrassed, but now singledom was just a fact of life. A few unfulfilling relationships were enough to convince him he wasn't missing out on much, and he was so busy that he rarely had the time to think about it.

"Asshole ex-boyfriend," Margaery explained.

"Fuck no. I'm not getting in the middle of this just to make some guy jealous—"

"It's not to make him jealous. He's probably gonna try to harass her because he's a little dick, but he's Renly's nephew so we can't get out of inviting him."

Willas opened his mouth to protest, but the words weren't forthcoming.

"Please? As a favor? He's always awful to her and she just shuts down around him, and I really want her to have a nice night."

"Fine. But  _ this _ is your wedding present."

"Great!" she said, chipper again. Willas had the sinking feeling that, somehow, he'd just agreed to more than he was aware. "Get lunch with her or something, get your story straight."

"Right," he said, wondering how he would minimize the damage.

* * *

 

"So..." Willas tapped his fingers against the side of his coffee cup. He never knew what to say to Margaery's friends. Entirely different interests, entirely different worlds. They'd already exhausted the usual small talk — she was still a student, worked part time in an upscale dress shop, had four brothers, a sister, and a dog. She'd brightened up considerably showing him pictures of her very cute husky, which he was now following on Instagram. "What exactly are we telling people? How we met and all that."

"Through Margaery, right?" she said. "The best lies have a little bit of truth in them."

Yes, but if he knew his family — his aunts and uncles and cousins, maybe Mom and Garlan too, if Margaery hadn't already told them — that wouldn't be anywhere near enough. "They'll want details."

She was quiet a moment, thinking. "Well, what do you do for fun?"

That was a difficult question to answer. "Nothing very social." Sometimes his own family was more social interaction than he could stand. "I read a lot." That sounded really, really boring, but what else did he _ do? _ He'd managed to forget all of the words he needed. "I foster dogs?"

Her eyes lit up again. "Puppies?"

"No," Willas said. That always disappointed people. "I can't keep up with them, so I usually get the ones who are injured, or recovering from surgery." Over the years, he'd learned a thing or two about physical therapy and knee surgeries that never did much for the pain.

"That's even more important," she said. "Everyone wants puppies, but a lot of places don't even give those dogs a chance."

By the time she had to leave for work they still hadn't figured out a cover story, but she'd seen probably half the pictures on his phone and he now had an Instagram account just for the dogs.

* * *

 

"Did I tell you Margaery's making me bring a date?"

"Good — someone's got to. Who are you bringing?" Oberyn asked, with the same inflection he used when teasing his young daughters.

"One of her friends."

"Wait, you need your little sister to actually set you up with a date?" He emptied the rest of the wine bottle into Willas's glass. "Step up your game."

"It's not like that—"

"What, you don't like her?"

"I don't know enough about her to have an opinion," Willas said. "She's polite, I guess, and I'm more of a meat shield between her and her ex, I think."

Oberyn frowned. "Who's her ex?"

"One of Renly's nephews." Margaery hadn't said, and he didn't know enough about the family to guess.

"Joffrey?" Oberyn said. He didn't have to think to pull up the name. "God, I hate that kid. He's the worst of his parents all mixed together, and he has one of those faces you just want to punch. Like his uncle."

"Which uncle?"

"Don't you want to punch all of them? I do. Maybe not Tyrion, he can be cool."

"Please don't punch Renly at his own wedding." Willas had hoped that was something he wouldn't have to actually  _ say,  _ but with Oberyn you never knew.

"As a personal favor to you, I won't," Oberyn said. "No promises about any of the others, though."

"Fantastic."

"Thank you, I know I am." Oberyn grinned, deliberately ignoring Willas's tone. "Who is she? The redhead, right?"

"Yes, Sansa— how do you  _ know _ everyone?"

"This should be very interesting," Oberyn said, swirling his wine. His eyes were focused a little above Willas's head, and that meant he was thinking.

Oh dear.

* * *

 

She commented heart-eyes all over the picture of his newest charge — Dunk, not quite as tall as Willas's knees, with short, bristly fur and perky, pointed ears and spots all over, who was recovering from amputation of his right hind leg, outfitted in a cone and napping.

_ Want to meet him? _ he texted, not expecting her to accept, but she immediately replied  _ Yes!!!! _

She spent a couple hours one evening slowly leading Dunk around the house and hand-feeding him little chunks of chicken around the cone. A few minutes of clumsy movement at a time, with ample rest and praise in between. Willas quietly took a few seconds of video for Instagram, and she grinned when he showed it to her over a quick dinner on his couch.

"He's such a good boy," she said. Dunk snored away on the big, flat pillows Willas had arranged on the floor — he shouldn't be jumping around so soon after surgery, while he adjusted to life on a missing limb. "He's going to get adopted so quickly."

A couple of families had already made inquiries at the rescue. They could afford to be more picky about which home would become Dunk's forever — a sad story and triumphant recovery grabbed people's attention, and the unique photos only stirred up more interest.

"To a good home," he said.

"Thank you," she said as she departed.

"What for?" Willas asked. "I should be thanking you."

She only smiled and gave him a quick hug before she left.

* * *

 

"Who's the girl on your Instagram?" Garlan asked at their mostly-weekly family dinner.

That got Mom's attention. "Oh?"

"It's not anything serious," Willas said.

"It's not? But you're bringing her to the wedding," Margaery said, wide-eyed and innocent.

Loras stifled a snicker into Renly's shoulder, and Willas shot her a look as dry as he could manage. She knew what she was doing.  _ Bringing _ wasn't the right word, but the distinction wasn't enough for him to correct.

"Will we get a chance to meet her before?" Mom asked. "It'll be so hectic the day of, I'm afraid we won't get any chance to talk."

That was probably for the best. "She's very busy right now —  _ I _ barely get to see her."

"She's defending her thesis in a couple of weeks," Margaery said. "It's why I didn't ask her to be a bridesmaid."

She was what?

He must have managed to not look too surprised, because Mom accepted that. "But you'll bring her around to meet us?"

"Of course," he said, distantly.

* * *

 

_ Can Dunk run yet?  _ she asked.  _ I'm DONE on Thurs, and I need to do something outside. _

_ Dog park?  _ he suggested.

They met early on Saturday morning, before the city had fully awoken. Dunk was recovering well — his stitches were out, the cone was gone, and he'd regained bursts of puppy-like energy now that he was mostly off the pain meds. But he was so clumsy that  _ run _ was perhaps too kind of a word. The nearly-empty dog park was for the best.

Sansa's Lady was true to her name, proper and well-behaved. "Gentle," Sansa instructed when the two dogs met. Lady sniffed politely, and trotted away when let off her leash. Dunk stumbled after her, trying to go in every direction all at once. New dog, new smells, grass to roll in, trees to inspect, even a squirrel sitting atop a fence post, watching from just out of reach.

"He's walking a lot better than the last time I saw him," she said, watching the dogs sniff all the way around a big pine tree. 

He was still a little wobbly when he got excited, but it had only been a couple of weeks. "They figure it out quickly. He's learning not to jump on me so much every time I come home, too."

"Missed the landing a couple of times?" she said sympathetically.

He nodded. "Probably for the best."

Dunk was now trying to dig a hole and tumbled over, not used to the balance. But he hopped right back up as Lady bounded over to nose at him. Sansa took half a step forward, ready to step in if needed, but they were fine — just chasing each other around in circles.

"I can go keep Lady distracted so you can have him fetch," she offered. "She refuses to share tennis balls."

Dunk also refused to share, so Willas had to keep throwing new ones so he could retrieve the ones Dunk dropped. When Sansa stumbled playing tug-of-war and Lady scrambled to her side, concerned, it was a good time to rest. Dunk, panting, plopped down next to them in a sunny patch of grass.

"So, you're done with the semester?" Willas asked. The dogs stretched and rolled in the sun. "Thesis defended?"

She nodded, scratching Lady's ears. "Technically I'm still waiting to hear the official decision, but I know I'm fine. Graduation's next week."

"What are you studying? I realized I don't actually know."

"Medieval history," she said. "Focusing on songs and how they were used to teach history, or spread news, or sometimes as propaganda."

"Propaganda?"

She nodded. "How they portrayed the ruling lords, and who commissioned them. Not just to make themselves look good, but to intimidate their enemies, or discourage rebellion, or stir up resentment against political opponents."

"Any favorites?"

"There's one of the more controversial ones— It's about some Lord Tully hundreds of years ago, at a time when their control was particularly weak. Some think it's about his losses in battle, some think it's about... other performance issues." She turned a little pink. "In any case, he wasn't in power for long."

"And that's what he's remembered for, after all these years? Harsh."

"I love trying to figure out what kind of people they really were. Putting together all the pieces. Even back then everyone had an agenda, so everything's at least a little unreliable, and..." she trailed off. "I'm probably boring you."

"No— I just don't know much about it." His interest in history ran more broadly — the philosophies and structures that set the stage, rather than the individual players.

"I want to write a book, but I don't know if anyone would want to read it," she said.

"There's only one way to find out."

"True," she said.

* * *

 

Cocktail hour was what had Willas the most worried. Sansa had charmed Mom and Garlan and Leonette in the fifteen minutes they waited for the long, traditional ceremony to begin. But they would all be with the photographer at once, out in the picturesque gardens of the estate. Joffrey, though also family now, would probably only be in a couple of the large group photos.

Sansa had subtly pointed Joffrey out to him, on the other side of the Sept. He looked like a particularly unpleasant person, sneering as he said things that made his brother slouch in his seat, looking defeated. But everyone sitting around them ignored it.

"Do you know Oberyn Martell?" Willas asked before he left with the rest of the family.

"I know who he is," she said hesitantly.

"If Joffrey gives you any trouble before I'm back, he knows what's going on," Willas explained. "And I think he hates almost everyone here, so he's not afraid to make enemies. Only try not to encourage him too much, for Margaery's sake."

She nodded, but when they both glanced back at Oberyn, he smiled. Oberyn had a talent for smiling in a way that was the exact opposite of reassuring.

When Willas returned, about 45 minutes after Joffrey and the rest of the nieces and nephews and cousins were released by the photographer, Sansa had found their table and was sitting with Oberyn and Ellaria and a few other people Willas didn't recognize.

"So," Oberyn said as Willas approached. He wore the grin Willas hated most. "Sansa's been telling me how you met." Sansa smiled nervously, and Ellaria hid a laugh behind her hand. "For shame, Willas. Putting such a lovely young lady in the hospital."

Sansa's eyes went very wide. "What?" they asked in unison.

"Your shoe," Oberyn said pointedly. "Flew off a roller coaster and hit her in the head. Head injuries are very serious business."

Her mouth dropped open in horror. "I never said that!" Sansa protested, but she calmed when Willas laid a hand on her arm.

"You've got it wrong. We actually met  _ at _ the emergency room," Willas said, deadpan. "There was a really big spider in my kitchen, I tried to jump on top of a chair and missed. I like to think the story was entertaining enough to distract from the wait."

"Yes," Sansa agreed, recovering her composure. "We were waiting hours, and you're not supposed to fall asleep after a head injury—"

"Actually they recommend it, as long as you're not bleeding up there," Oberyn said, tapping his temple.

"Obviously I didn't know that at the time," Sansa said.

"Did you ever find out whose shoe it was?" Ellaria asked, not concealing her mirth very well.

"No," Sansa said. "One of those little mysteries of life. I might send him a thank you note if I knew."

Ellaria was the first to crack, and the rest of them followed not long after. Their tablemates looked on in confusion but, seeing as they didn't actually know each other, left it alone.

But that wasn't the last time they had to explain themselves that night.

"My youngest brother likes to make me go to horror movies with him, just so he can scare me senseless," Sansa said to Uncle Garth. "So I  _ tried _ to prepare — went to see it on my own in advance, so I'd know where all the jump scares were. Turned out Rickon didn't even want to see that one, but it wasn't a complete loss. I ended up sitting next to a very handsome stranger and clinging to his arm the entire time," she said, looping her arm through Willas's.

"Sat next to each other on a flight," Willas explained to Selyse Baratheon. "We both happened to be reading the same series, and she accidentally spoiled several deaths from book three, but she  _ claims _ it was based on historical events and historical events don't count as spoilers."

"Have you heard of LARPing?" Sansa asked Jaime Lannister, straight-faced. "There's a local group that does medieval historical reenactment. We met at a tourney—"

"Are you taking about the SCA?" asked the woman at Jaime's side.

"Yes—" Sansa looked up and gasped. "You're the only reason my sister doesn't completely hate me."

She looked confused. "What?"

"I made matching dresses for the costume competition and she owed me, so I made her come with. She said you were the only part that didn't suck. From her that's a compliment." Sansa grabbed her phone. "Take a picture with me? She'll hate me even more."

Willas exchanged a confused look with Jaime over their heads as Sansa took a selfie.

"Brienne," Jaime said. "What the fuck are you two talking about?"

"I fight people with swords," Brienne said shortly.

"Don't you remember?" Sansa said to Willas, nudging him with her elbow. "She won the melee."

"I was paying attention to other things by that point," Willas said, taking her hand.

She went a little pink, high in her cheeks, and her eyes darted over to Jaime and Brienne — they weren't paying attention to anything beyond the two of them anymore.

"I  _ really _ want to punch Jaime Lannister in his stupid face," Oberyn grumbled, passing by.

"Not at Margaery's wedding," Willas said, for what felt like the hundredth time. "But if you're interested in historical reenactment, you might get a chance."

It was perhaps too much to hope that Joffrey would leave them alone for the night, but he found them eventually, wearing a smile that, though loose with drunkenness, still held a spectrum of cruelty.

"Is this some weak attempt to make me jealous?" Joffrey sneered. "I could do much better, but you can't." He looked over Willas. "That much is obvious."

"You're wrong," she told him. "I'm happy, and I don't think of you at all."

Joffrey's eyes flashed cruelly and he lifted his hand— Sansa flinched at the movement— Willas caught his arm before he could strike—

"I wasn't going to  _ do _ anything," Joffrey said, jerking his arm from Willas's grip. "It's just funny to see her jump."

Willas never wanted to hurt someone as much as he did in that moment, but both Sansa's hands wrapped around his arm. "Don't," she whispered, and that gave him pause.

Enough that in an instant — a blur of movement and a sharp cry were all that registered in Willas's mind. Sansa's hand flew to her mouth in shock, a wave rippled through the people surrounding them, and when Willas finally turned, Joffrey was on the ground. Oberyn stood over him, looking entirely too satisfied.

Everything moved rather quickly after that.

"He was telling us a story, and he's very expressive with his hands when he talks," Ellaria told the police when they arrived. That was complete bullshit, but—

"I didn't see him there," Oberyn agreed.

"I didn't see what happened," Willas told them. "I was a little distracted." He wrapped an arm around Sansa's waist.

"Me neither," she added.

As it turned out, a lot of people hadn't seen anything happen — whether they were being entirely truthful, Willas didn't know — and the police left in the end with a stern admonishment to Oberyn to watch what was happening around him.

"Well, that was fun," Oberyn said, back in Willas's kitchen, iceing his knuckles. "His face was the most punchable of all— I'm satisfied."

"I wish you hadn't," Sansa said, pulling a to-go box out of her purse. "But it was kinda satisfying to see," she admitted. She found Willas's silverware drawer on her first try. "One of my sister's friends works for the caterer and told me to tell you 'good job, that fucker had it coming,'" she said, opening the box to reveal four slices of cake.

Oberyn laughed.

Later, when he walked her out, he wanted to take her hand while they waited on an uber to take her home.

She shivered and inched closer as the breeze picked up. He'd already lent her a sweater, but her dress looked thin, and get arms and legs exposed to the cold air. He wrapped his arm around her waist — just to keep her from freezing.

"Thank you for not being the one to hit him," she said. "I won't complain that Oberyn did, but I didn't want a fuss. He's not worth it."

"He was awful to you." What had happened between them was something he could only speculate — it didn't feel right that he be the one to bring it up.

"It's in the past," she said. "I'm happier now, and if the only time I have to deal with him is at occasional weddings..." She trailed off for a moment. "I've won. That entire family is toxic. All the decent ones are jumping ship, and eventually it'll be just them making each other miserable."

"If it's ever something you want to talk about, I've been told I'm a good listener."

"Thank you," she said, with a small smile that looked a little tight with sadness. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I hope you had a good time tonight, despite that. Seeing them again, Oberyn's... chaotic energy."

"It was beautiful — perfect, really," she said, but her lips wore a hint of a frown and there was a pensive look in her eye.

"But?" he asked, low enough that only she would hear him.

She looked up at him, and after a moment of hesitation stepped close enough that she was maybe a hair's breadth from being curled up against his chest.

"It's a little sad, isn't it?" she said softly. "They don't love each other."

Willas thought about it a moment. "There's more than one way to love," he said. She and Renly were close friends, and they wanted the same things. "Margaery's never been one for romance, anyway." Image was important to both of them, and it wouldn't look weird if Margaery's favorite brother, Renly's best friend was over often. And sometimes spent the night.

"Not with men, maybe," she said. 

He wondered about that, sometimes. "If she meets someone, I'm sure they'll do something similar. So long as everyone's discreet."

Sansa nodded. "He respects her," she said. "Maybe that's the most important thing, in the end."

"It's the foundation," he agreed.

When the car arrived, she turned and her lips almost brushed his for a fraction of a second before she jerked away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I forgot we're not actually dating for a second. It just felt natural—"

He touched her hand and she stopped, her face so rosy that the color spread down to her throat.

"Do you want to go on a real date?"

She nodded quickly, a huge smile blooming over her face like the first flowers of spring.

 

**Author's Note:**

> some of their fake meeting stories I took from prompt lists on tumblr - I'm not sure which lists because I write down the ones I like in a notebook but if one of your ideas is in here and you want credit please let me know. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr - [peggycarterisacat-fic](https://peggycarterisacat-fic.tumblr.com/) for fic updates, [peggycarterisacat](https://peggycarterisacat.tumblr.com/) for other fandom stuff.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
